


Here There Be Dragons (but more importantly, necromancy)

by Anonymous



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom
Genre: (skippable as i can make it), ??? Benrey, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Autistic Benrey (Half-Life), Because its my urban fantasy au and i'll use xenogenders if i want!, CHURCH GRIM SUNKIST, CONTENT WARNING: graphic necromancy themes?, DRAGON TOMMY, Disassociative Disorder Harold Coomer, Dryagender Coomer, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Magical Realism, Multi, NECROMANCER COOMER, Neopronouns, Nonbinary Character, Only one cis character!!, Other, Platonic Relationships, Polyamorous Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queerplatonic Relationships, Stimming, THEORETICAL PHYSICS MAGE GORDON, Work In Progress, Worldbuilding, Xenogenders, ZOMBIE BUBBY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26387797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Benrey waved at Coomer through the window, and Coomer happily waved back.  Look at all this nice interaction.  It’s really offset by the fact Gordon is yelling in a corner.AKA:Hlvrai for monster lovin fantasy nerds who aren't at all cishet and are neurodivergent!
Relationships: oh jeez - Relationship
Comments: 32
Kudos: 65
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay first of all this is just a funky little starter chapter because i was losing motivation so PLEASE comment at the end of this ride thank-you-please
> 
> anyway ya'll have fun! CW note for graphic necromancy, as is present in the tags! Additional notes about whats going on here in the end notes, if you want to go there before reading.

There was a house in the woods the same way there were many houses, in many wooded areas, around the globe. It did not have a ‘mysterious aura, as if the trees were reaching out to you and hadn’t quite decided if you’d find your way out’. The paths didn’t seem ‘never ending, twirling in mysterious patterns, like someone wrote a secret in cursive and blew it out into the earth itself’. 

Or, rather, Gordon didn’t see it that way. It was kind of hard to think of any place as all that, when you’d once gotten lost in the afternoon and ended up peeing in the woods, only to realize you were maybe a minute away from your house and totally didn’t need to be dropping your boxers on the forest floor.

So, yeah! Maybe it was a bit mysterious and spooky! It was kind of hard to have it not be, when Gordon was uh….not the best at keeping his magical energy contained. He certainly would have preferred to live in a city or something, if not for the risk of his magic twisting his surroundings in a way that actually impacted people. Do you have any idea how badly he wants to go to a Starbucks? Casually? The nearest Walmart is an hour’s drive, and functions as the only Walmart for the three surrounding towns. There’s a very precise energy to such a place, and it is not a good one.

Before the resonance cascade spit ‘unquantifiable void energy’ all over the place, his house was a bit small and a bit big at the same time. Like how a museum can be absolutely full of stuff, but also completely empty? Now, though, he had accidentally sloughed enough void energy all over the place that it was…full. And also larger. 

It’s possible that human brains, magical or not, just weren’t meant to express some things!

He swore that sometimes it took him ten extra steps to get to the microwave, meaning he could never manage to stop it before it beeped. Which, in itself, really sums up the malicious intent of the unquantifiable void energy.

Or maybe that was just Benrey.

-

Quite honestly, Gordon wasn’t sure if Benrey was….like that, before the black mesa events. Besides being a bit non expressive, (a trait both cosmic inhuman beings AND autistic folks share!) they hadn’t seemed all that odd. And there wasn’t really a casual way to ask ‘hey, were you always a little bit non-Euclidean, or did I harass you so badly you separated from the safety of social ties and get preyed upon by the endless emptiness and fullness of space, causing you to be permanently changed?’.

Gordon honestly, just, didn’t want to know! My conscious is clear, imperial, can you say the same?

On that risk, Gordon had okay’d Benrey living in his (bachelor pad) completely normal house. He totally didn’t have to run around and pick up a bunch of nonsense, and start trying to make an inexplicable collection of cow statues seem neat and/or tidy.

Which was probably for the best, since after inviting Benrey, the rest of the science team sort of just…gravitated in.

It started with Coomer, who was just. There.

-

The window made a metallic sound as Gordon forced it open, sloppy in his sleepy state.

“Ah, Hello Gordon!” Dr Coomer chirped. Behind him, Bubby was creating a bush fire.

Gordon stared.

“Hello, Dr Coomer. Why are you here?” 

“I’m just perceiving, Gordon! I am registering information!” There was a distant cackling and the sound of flames wooshing.

“….okay.”

Gordon closed the window.

-

“Hello, Gordon!”

Gordon tripped into the hand towels and sent the mish mash of different types careening towards the floor.

“A- DR COOMER. HELLO. WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BATHROOM.”

“Gordon, I’m thirsty!”

“Hm! Hm! Hm! Hm! No!”

-

Gordon awoke to a distant chanting. It vaguely reminded him of highschool. He should’ve majored in art. Would all this happen to an art major? If he was an art major he coulda….he coulda written such a good poetry. A bombtastic versed thingy.

It was at that exact moment when Gordon realized he was remembering his careers in magic class, and that was fucking necromantic chants. He rushed out to the yard, sheet half dragging behind him where it was caught on his leg, and found…

Coomer.

His hand was in the dirt, and his eyes were reflective in the porch light. Not like an animal, no, his full eye reflected, whites and all. Around him there were a variety of mice, climbing up, rustling through the heavy fall leaves and shaking off bits of dirt and twigs. Their bodies knit together sloppily, cohesive but missing pieces, some pieces looking to be from the wrong mouse, maybe from the wrong animal all together. Bubby was sleeping peacefully, a contrast to the scene. He was curled up against a tree, with Dr Coomers coat wrapped around him. He was chewing it in his sleep. It absolutely was not a sweet enough sight to fucking draw away attention from the PATCHWORK ZOMBIE RATS HELLO????

“HELLO????? DOCTOR COOMER??? WHY????”

Coomer beamed with teeth a bit too sharp.

“Ah, Hello Gordon! It’s lonely out here. So I brought friends!”

Gordon covered his face and walked in a little circle, muffled shouting drifting between his fingers. The cool wind blew at Coomer’s hair, and he absentmindedly asked some of the mice to snuggle up to Bubby. He took his hands out of the dirt, clapping them clean, and sat crisscross. Kneeling too long wouldn’t be good for his knees!

Benrey waved at Coomer through the window, and Coomer happily waved back. Look at all this nice interaction. It’s really offset by the fact Gordon is yelling in a corner. He is Still yelling in a corner.

Benrey makes an amused ‘can you believe this guy’ gesture, leaning forward to clip through the window so he can be seen better. Coomer makes an amused face back, and quickly signs ‘for 1 playcoin, pill!’, choosing to just use the sign for pill instead of seeing if Benrey could see in the dark distance well enough to read the letters for ‘xanax’. Benrey wiggled his hands in an amused little stim, and wandered off mid conversation.

Gordon, now done processing through dramatic ‘villain origin story’ monologue, turned back around and gestured at the mice. His mouth worked, halfway to saying something, before stopping.

“…Why are there so many?” He asked, gesturing at the supporting cast of Ratatouille. 

“Hole!” Coomer chimmed, pointing at a burrow for definitely-not-a-rat-these-are-mice.

Gordon stared, nodded, and wandered over to Coomer. He squatted, and put his hand on Coomer’s shoulder.

“Please chant quieter next time, you funky little necromancer.”

Coomer’s eyes scrunched with his smile.

“Sure, Gordon! As long as you’re not a big pussy about it, we’re all good!”

“We’re all good, Doctor Coomer.”

A pause.

“I’m not a pussy though.”

“Neko neko nyah, Gordon!”

-

After that, it was pretty much easiest to invite Coomer in. It hadn’t really hit him, but both him and Bubby outside at night, in the cold? Kind of a sad sight. Raised woodland creatures aside. And Benrey seemed to approve, since he stopped by to stare at Gordon for seven minutes straight before disappearing with a faintly pleasant scent. Kind of like… The smell of dollar store slime.

Bubby of course followed Coomer in, and they both took up residence in some nonsense room that Gordon had once been really convinced he could make a painting room. He peeked in while the door was open, once, and it seemed like they were doing fine. They never asked for a bed, but there was a massive pile of fabric and pillows in one corner. Gordon was vaguely concerned about mold, but ehh…It was a rich person house, they’d be fine. Outer walls were real stone! Plus Gordon had bought a dehumidifier at some point. That’s like, spell of fuck humidity.

Gordon should have majored in meteorology. Imagine how much easier his life would be if he was a weatherman. Or even a weather mage. Wide scale weather magic was prohibited without permit, but he was pretty sure he could be living in a peaceful cyclone on his property where nobody bothered him, if he was a weather mage. But then again, he did sort of believe the conspiracy theory that the government employed a secret network of mages to control the worldwide weather patterns. He didn’t think they were, uh, ‘purposefully causing global warming to cull the lower classes’, but to be fair he had been wrong before. If he was a weather mage and the government employed him maybe he would have ended up in a worse situation. Like maybe he would have been hired out to England, or something, and then used his magic to get some warmer weather, and then the weather difference would have caused a tornado, and it would have torn apart Buckingham Palace, and all the royals would have been floating around in the air, and all the gargoyles would have gotten pissed and started breaking shit, and then there wouldn’t be a Europe anymore because of gargoyle initiated wars, and Gordon would’ve been like that like, 19 year old who assassinated Franz Ferdinand, and then he’d be arrested and die in prison of tuberculous, also like that one dude who killed Franz Ferdinand, and everyone would hate him and his son would change his name and then write a tell all where he mentions that one time Gordon had thought Joshua wanted animal crackers but he actually wanted those zoo pals things and they got discontinued in 2006 so Gordon couldn’t get him them anyway and oh god his son totally already hated him and he also was going to be a war criminal.

He didn’t look any closer than that glance, though. Excluding the fact the glance lasted ten minutes as he zoned out staring into the room. He needed another coffee. He wasn’t sleeping.

-

“Bubby. Your finger’s in the coffeepot.”

“…That’s not mine.”

“It-It’s obviously yours??? You’re missing a finger right now??”

Bubby looked at the finger. He clenched his hands. The finger also clenched.

“Well, how’d that happen.”

“I-I’d also love to know! Can you even drink coffee??” Gordon gestured with his finger free mug of the last batches coffee. It didn’t slosh, but it thought heavily about it.

“Obviously I can, idiot. Why else would my finger be in the pot?” Bubby shoved his hand into the top of the pot and started trying to grab his finger. He couldn’t quite reach.

“I don’t- I don’t know? Flavor?” 

“Ew.”

Benrey lip smacked behind them, causing Gordon to levitate a little and Bubby to make a vaguely offended look.

“Like um.. That song. Lemon Demon. Sweet bod.” He made a completely vague gesture.

“I do not fuckin’ want to debate how edible I am?”

Benrey lip smacked more.

“You do be looking like…snack.” He wiggled his eyebrows, which could be described as game of peek a boo with the helmet on. Gordon watched horrified as Bubby blushed.

“Wow! Okay! I’m going to drive two hours to Starbucks! Goodbye!”

-

Benrey wasn’t precisely haunting the house. It was more like, uh. A brownie. The way they like, lived in the walls, ran around cleaning shit up. Little helpful dudes, just like. Chillin.

He…rly didn’t want Feetman mad at him again. Lol. Sure he had been like. On some real pussy shit, barely did any final boss damage. But…

Benrey wasn’t dumb. He knew Gordon genuinely hated him, for a while. Had seen him up there, shifting in and out of space and time, and felt… Disgusted.

It wasn’t like that was his true form or anything, it wasn’t like he was hiding that part of him. It was just, like. It was a part of him. As equal as his hands to one another, just. A thing.

So Benrey wanted to be ‘good’. And people love help. So he gave Gordon space, and he picked up stuff, and he didn’t even leave a little gamer dust anywhere.

Yeah. Surely this would be noticed and appreciated. Gordon was a real smart dude. PhD or whatever.

Benrey was sure this would work.

-

So it turned out Tommy was living on their roof and Gordon hadn’t noticed.

“Don’t be- Silly Mr. Freeman. I don’t live here.”

“Tommy that’s a tent?”

“Camping! My- uh- d- my dad takes me! But I like to be high, so I, came up here!”

Tommy waved down into the woods. Gman’s gangly form stepped out from behind a tree and waved back. The trees entire shadow also waved back. Gordon had no fucking clue if that was normal, at this point.

“I…Okay, thank you Tommy. Do you want to come inside or anything?” Gordon was fairly sure that if he could get Tommy to use the kitchen, maybe everyone would stop eating everything.

“Nope! I am- This is a perch! This is my perch! I uh- uh- I really need to be here!”

Gordon patted Tommy’s arm, and Tommy grinned back. His eyebrows went up when he smiled, which both made him look goofy and made the lines on his forehead more noticeable. Tommy was kinda a cute dude. 

Gordon stopped patting Tommy’s arm.

“Sure thing, Tommy, feel free to come on in if you need anything.”

“Was I uh, not allowed to before?”

“Just, formally. Me casa es su casa, and all that.”

“It’s ‘mi’, Mr Freeman! But t-thank you!” Gordon didn’t question how Tommy was able to hear the difference between English ‘me’ and Spanish ‘mi’, but he did glance back as he climbed back into his window to get inside. Tommy was using a flashlight to flash messages at his dad. Or maybe just for fun, Gordon couldn’t see into the woods. He closed the window behind him and walked directly into Benrey.

Benrey made a stimmy nonsense gesture while Gordon took several steps sideways. There was a socially tense amount of space between them.

“Wifi’s down. Got me, uh, locked out of Animal Crossing Battle Royale. Also it’s Coomer’s fault.”

“Did he eat it again? I swear I’m like, at some sort of limit.”

Benrey lip smacked.

“Did you know that, um, mites take a long while to decompose completely? And there’s a lot of them, um”, he flapped a little, “around.”

Gordon laughed like a man on deaths row, and didn’t notice Benrey relaxing a little.

“Oh, wow, okay, guess we’re doing this then.”

-

Gordon bought a new wifi box, which Coomer insisted on paying for. Reportedly, he thought he could control the mites to eat the dust inside the house and make it easier to clean since it would be broken up more. Turns out there was some sort of necromancy lower limit, because even though he could Raise a bunch of mites, he apparently couldn’t Control a bunch of mites.

Gordon resolved to set up a chore chart. Or buy a Roomba.

…Or take up a religion. Despite being a mage who specialized in theoretical physics, he felt more like a cleric through stress alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The living room was tense. The air seemed to spark with potential, wavering like paper burns in a fire. 

The living room was tense. The air seemed to spark with potential, wavering like paper burns in a fire. 

Sunkist growled, intensifying like someone turned up the sharpen effect only on him. His soft gold turned so bright it almost burned, almost created a black void from the pure intensity of colors.

Bubby growled back, bared xyr teeth. He was tense, sharp, and so very afraid.

Sunkist barked, teeth flashing, teeth flashing as his jaw opened so wide that the teeth within his neck flashed out. He tensed his hind legs.

And Harold hit his nose with a newspaper. The front page news, ‘Society for the Advancement of Gnomes in the Sciences (SAGS) Announces the Opening of a Gnome Centric IT University, Amidst Conflict’, smushed against the grim’s snout in a comical manner. Sunkist blinked and sat back.

“Bad dog!” Harold said with a smile, that spoke of beauty in decay, and also weirdly effective dental hygiene. Behind him, Bubby relaxed and took a step back.

Sunkist pawed at his nose and whined, and Harold shook the newspaper. 

“None of that, you hear? Bubby is perfectly fine where xey are!”

Sunkist snorted, and Bubby stuck xyr tongue out from behind Harold.

Harold huffed, exasperated, and gave Sunkist a few pats on the head. Bubby grumbled a few lines about know it all dogs who needed to stay in their lane, know it all Tommy’s who needed to get their dog, and for some odd reason: lettuce. 

Harold held xem for most of the grumbling, his arms warm. Bubby shoved his face on the soft chub of his love’s arms, and quieted down.

They were safe, and in love, and that was that.

-

Until Bubby got bored and set the couch on fire. It made something in Coomer’s heart flutter, and it really liked that feeling. Coomer loved it’s chaotic partner.

-

Benrey shoved his hands against Tommy’s chest, and the purr drifting out of him got louder. They were tangled up on the rooftop, Tommy leaning against the siding and Benrey pressed against him, hands firm on Tommy’s chest and head leaning on Tommy’s arm.

Tommy purred louder, automatically, and squeezed his arms around him. Benrey smiled, his hands doing a little stimmy kneading motion on Tommy’s shirt and scrunched his nose teasingly. Tommy rolled his eyes and kissed Benrey’s nose, causing him to pretend to sneeze.

Benrey adjusted himself more comfortable on Tommy, shoving their head against his chest.

The roof was warm where they met it, and their hearts warm where they met each other. It was safe, it was comfortable.

And what more is there to say than that?

-

Honestly, Gordon hadn’t expected Darnold of all people to show up in his middle of the woods semi magical semi cursed frat house.

But there he was. Peddling brain fungus like it was his mama’s birthday and he didn’t have the cash for a gift yet. 

Gordon watched in vague horror as Benrey purchased a suspiciously huge jar of ‘pickles’. It contained exciting traits like ‘green’ and ‘visibly sour from a distance of 20+ feet’.

Gordon did the awkward shuffle closer and checked out Darnold’s incredibly juicy wares.

There were jars spread out on the Pocket Table ™, which expanded much like a life vest, if the life that needed saving was made of wood. They came in a wide variety of colors, and some still had pieces of stickers from the original contents. Who even eats a jar of pickled beets, honestly? 

Said pickled beets were absent (thank god) in favor of Unidentifiable Chunky Offwhite. It had bubbles. Darnold noticed Gordon looking and hurridly put the jar behind the others.

“Oops! You uh- don’t want that one.” Darnold smiled nervously.

Gordon suspiciousman narrowed his eyes.

“What is it? Is it like- poison? Is it drugs? Will it turn you into a mega jacked jock and stuff me into a locker?”

Darnold blinked. Gordon very intensely didn’t think about jocks. He was not thinking about jocks so hard.

“I uh- that’s oddly specific. But if I wanted to be a jock I’d just like. Be one.” Darnold said.

“It’s actually really hard to get into sports after you reach a certain age.” 

“No I mean I’d just. Shapeshift. Did you not uh- know I was a shapeshifter.”

Gordon totally knew that. Or totally didn’t know that. What was even the better choice here? Oh jeez conversational time limits.

“You’re a shapeshifter?” Gordon asked, hesitantly.

“Yes? I uh, wasn’t hiding it?”

Gordon made some vague hand gestures.

“I mean I didn’t-“

Darnold cut him off.

“You think my ass is this thick naturally?”

“….w-“

“You think I just- drink soda. And get- tripled up asscheeks? Gordon? PhD?”

“You know what! Yes I did. Theoretical physics checked out on that ass.”

Darnold snorted and giggled a little. He leaned over the counter, pushing aside a jar of Orange.

“Oh? You spend a lot of time looking at my ass, Dr Freeman? I guess I uh- didn’t notice around all the war crimes.”

Gordon scrunched his nose.

“In my defense they started it.”

Darnold rolled his eyes and tugged a jar of some cream away from a shoplifting Bubby. Bubby determinately made ‘who me? I did nothing wrong’ faces.

Benrey used the distraction to successfully steal a vial.

“I really uh- think if we’re listing stuff the united states military started we’d have to. Start the clock way earlier than you fucking their shit up. Why did you even work with the US government?”

“What? I did Nothing wrong. Why were YOU working with the US government?” Gordon crossed his arms and squinted accusatorily.

“Oh, embezzlement. I actually went to college for accounting. I just uh- liked potions more. Dual major.”

Something in a jar did a very noticeably twirl.

“How’s all that even work?”

“I just lied about the manufacturing overhead. Made up like, fifty indirect costs to the WIP account for every potion I mass produced and pocketed the change. Can you believe they really thought I needed paragon jars to hold supplies?”

Gordon got none of that.

“Wow, that’s just- that’s crazy.”

“I’m said to be, when it’s not uh- murder time.” Darnold said, “Speaking of crazy, discount is 10% on the Big Blue™ sodas. Best deal on a rare find!” He grinned.

Gordon looked at the big blue’s. They were in 1 galloon mason jars. 

He grabbed his wallet.

-

At least there wasn’t any brain fungus this time.

-

Benrey was honestly beginning to freak Gordon the fuck out.

He was just. Around? Ghosting in the edge of his vision like some sort of specter of post murder awkwardness.

It wasn’t really that Gordon like, hated him. He definitely hadn’t forgiven him for his FUCKING HAND being cut off. But at the same time there’s a certain peace in being around someone so much. Gordon had panicked enough at this point that it was just. Whatever. Like exposure therapy.

That was maybe sad. But Gordon was overall glad for it. Benrey wasn’t actually like, a bad dude. Annoying as hell, and absolutely not a good fit for a crisis situation. But in ordinary, every day life? He was fine. 

He did a lot of cleaning. Gordon figured it was like, a stress thing. On his bad days he figured Benrey was mocking him, showing off how much control he had over Gordon’s space. But to be honest? There was a lot of household messes that just started showing up after everyone else did. If Benrey was the sole protector of Gordon not having to pick Bubby’s ear out of the bread box again, than honestly? Props given.

But, despite all that? Freaking Gordon the fuck out.

So when he walked into them, like literally into them in the kitchen at night, Gordon was still Freaking Out.

Gordon backtracked approximately a foot, and Benrey up-tracked approximately two inches.

“Ben- What are you doing up right now? In the middle of the- …What’s in your hand?” Gordon gestured, tense. It was dark, he had no glasses, he couldn’t see shit.

Benrey stuck his hands out and Gordon flinched back.

….It was a poptart.

Gordon relaxed a bit, laughed nervously. His heart was still beating loudly. He didn’t know Benrey’s was too.

“I’m uh….grub. I’m grubbing it up. Snacks.” Benrey shifted and kept his hands out a bit.

Gordon stuck his hands in his sleeves and sort of side stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah you uh….do that.” Gordon said.

They had an awkward moment where nobody did anything, and then Gordon carefully turned and started rooting around the fridge. He saw Benrey start to leave in the corner of his eye, and then stop.

“It’s um- bad. The- The milk. Malk.” 

Gordon raised his eyebrows.

“I just bought it?”

“Bubby.”

“Ah.”

The poptart wrapper crinkled in Benrey’s hands.

“I uh….I’m sorry.” 

Gordon blinked.

“For…the milk? Man it’s okay I know Bubby sort of gets int-“

“Your hand.”

A pause.

“Oh.”

Gordon looked away. He wasn’t…. you can’t just shrug something like that off. And it was late. Gordon wasn’t sure if he would end up regretting it in the morning, if he offered forgiveness.

Benrey wasn’t waiting around for any of that though.

With a quick “Kay-thanks-bye.”, Benrey warped out of reality.

Gordon stared for a moment, and then looked at the milk in his hands. The light from the fridge made it look badly rendered. Or maybe it was just one of those days.

Gordon put it in the trash, and went back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took ages! Mostly because I really didn't want to write benrey-gordon character development. I'm warning ya'll right now I don't really think I can do their complex relationship justice (plus this is my lighthearted ish urban fantasy fun zone) so i'm not likely to write any amazing prose about the complexity of trusting someone to protect you without trusting them not to hurt you. Anyway, Wig!
> 
> Sunkist is, again, a church grim, and you can google that up if you wanna reason what went on there but if you don't, the tldr is: bubby dead. go in safe graveyard. Sunkist wants him to be protected. Bubby does not want to go to graveyard. Bubby wants to commit arson. Would they fight for real? Yeah actually they would. But that doesn't mean there's rly a bad guy they just have different goals and are both stubborn shits.
> 
> Tommy benrey gay??? Darnold gordon flirt??? Rights for polyamorous hoes (me)
> 
> Okay it's 2am for me so I hope ya'll enjoyed it you can comment any passing thought that happens in your head below!


	3. Gordon is a sad scientist. f.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But maybe, you know, maybe they were right.
> 
> Because since the Resonance Cascade, Gordon hadn’t been able to magic a thing.

There was this saying that was passed around Gordon’s doctorate program every finals season. It was sweet, simple, and functionally inaccurate, which made the best sayings.

It was, “You can’t be a good magician unless you’re terrified.”

It was usually followed by nervous laughter, a glance at the clock, and the incredibly overbearing knowledge that they had to pretend to have grasped very single concept in the textbook within the next week.

But maybe, you know, maybe they were right.

Because since the Resonance Cascade, Gordon hadn’t been able to magic a thing.

He dropped cups like an astronaut returning home. He overfilled his now finite pockets. He looked at his hands and knew with absolute certainty they existed, would continue to exist when his eyes closed, would exist longer than he would until they decayed into molecules that were meaningless. Until all he was was broken bits of atoms, like a book torn apart page by page.

Theoretical physics was sort of a niche magic to specialize in. There was a lot of focus on hypothetical magic, and on analyzing why some things just worked. Gordon knew the exact energy to put out, the exact twist of his fingers, that would send something into nothingness, but he didn’t know what happened to it. Not really.

Did it scatter, broken down into particles until he reformed it again? Could he even verify that the items were actually the same ones? Made of the same matter?

Did he compress gravity so resolutely that a black hole formed, that items got sucked away into the fabric of the universe, until he reversed it and it sprung back out like a ball on a trampoline?

Did he send items spinning through space, like Bubby on the black mesa machinery, sending the fundamentals of items twirling so fast that they seemed to dissipate?

He didn’t know. And now, he really wanted to know.

Before, he hardly cared. There was a sort of certainty to not worrying about things. When you sit down, you hardly double check the chair hasn’t walked away. You don’t look into your soup for secrets, don’t listen for the tiny voices in the night. Because why would you? You didn’t see any, and then one day you stopped looking. You stopped tracing the trees for fairies, you stopped looking at the sky and wondering what it’d take to fly. And Gordon had stopped wondering why things worked the way they did. It was clean, it was simple. It was natural.

It was human.

But now he was just. So anxious. He felt his energy crackling up, an electrical current without grounding, every day he didn’t do anything. But what could he possibly do? How could he possibly trust anything? 

Theoretical physics. There’s this thought experiment. Schrodinger’s cat. It’s to display quantum superposition- the idea that two or more realities exist until they’re perceived, and it collapses to the ‘true’ reality. The cat is placed in the box with something radioactive, a Geiger counter (which measures radioactivity), and poison. When the counter goes off, the poison is released. The idea is that the cat is both dead and alive, since the ability of the cat living depends on if a radioactive atom decayed or not. You had to open the box to find out.

Gordon used to like that. It was cool! A bit grim, for sure, but cool! The concept of dual realities was one of his favorites.

But he felt, recently. Well. He felt like everything was a box.

He didn’t want to try to use his magic. Because what if it too had been twisted, like Benrey maybe was. What if he just couldn’t anymore. Or what if it worked fine, and in fact, would reveal that he was just being dramatic to begin with. What if, what if, what if.

And, as long as he didn’t look at it? Nothing would change. And he liked that. And he was terrified of that.

Superposition.

In black mesa his magic flowed freely. He formed the bullets out of nothing, shot them into however many creatures there were. He slipped through doors and found exactly what he needed, floated himself and the others up past dangerous areas. He was good. Not, perfect. He just didn’t have the personality to handle the stress perfect. But he got what he needed done, done. And he was proud of that.

But that was because he was terrified. And that makes good magicians.

And now he was calm, an empty calm, like right after you drain a sink or a bathtub and there’s still water on the edges but the emptiness makes it look so suddenly unrecognizable.

He wasn’t terrified.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys ! listen!  
> I'm going to be frank with you- we are in a pandemic and i've had a problem for YEARS where i've tried to hard to create these amazing compelling stories but i hit burnout and end up only writing outlines but WHATEVER.  
> I was originally going to try to keep updates disconnected but at about 2000 words but that's just not how my writing style works so. I guess expect more updates? I removed the chapter guess.  
> Also FUCK consistency from here on out i am NOT rereading my chapters i just want to have a fun gd time moving around these little toy people. I saw some shit from like, 2013? Where i was a CHILD and i was FULLHEARTEDLY having a blast writing creepypasta fanfic and somehow it was 100 percent less dry than all my current writing so i'm bringing it back we are hitting cringetober and ya'll are gonna enjoy this journey with me so help me god.


	4. There's nothing in here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is nothing, if you think about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I think it's fairy obvious from context clues but tw for disassociative themes. Just as a psa there's three terms I know and this deals with 2/3 of them so-  
> Disassociation- General term for feeling detached from things  
> Derealization- detached from reality (not recognizing or feeling connected to surroundings)  
> Depersonalization- Detached from self (not recognizing or feeling connected to self/body)
> 
> If you've just read those and gone 'oh shit...', you might wanna be monitoring your comfort while reading this! Or don't read it's whatever chase your bliss

Coomer didn’t like to be alone. In fact, it was one of it’s least favorite things to be! Bubby was an absolute darling, both for xyr innate clinginess and xyr purposeful company!

But, still, Bubby couldn’t always be around. Xey needed to sleep a lot, and Coomer got a bit restless about it. He knew it was partially from his magic- if he only had more energy reserves, then Bubby wouldn’t have to rely so heavily on xyr own ability to create energy. Bubby could never need to sleep! 

But, still. Limitations and all that.

So sometimes Coomer went off on it’s own. Never intending too long! But, well.

Being alone was horrible. 

There’s just nothing there.

Everything is nothing, if you think about it? Everything in the world is just a thing. The significance, the names, the beliefs and concepts. All of that is made up. These books? They aren’t even made of paper. Because what is paper? That’s a human concept. That’s not real.

Nothing was real. Nothing, but maybe Coomer. Like, maybe the cohesion, the brought together parts, created something that stayed. He knew himself, most of the time. But sometimes he was also just stuff. Just molecules floating in space, bits and pieces of a cosmic explosion so vast that it’s yet to stop moving.

Coomer knew it was a dissociative trait. He knew that everything was real, as real as he was, maybe even realer. He knew that even if it was all a game, even if beyond his narrow viewpoint there was just a black nothingness, that the things in it mattered. Just as much as if they were real. 

Even if Coomer could blink and have reality disappear, he knew this.

But it was hard. It was hard to not just, stop, when he was alone. When he could just be…an it. When it didn’t need to perform ‘Harold Coomer’, and could just breath. Could just feel it’s heart beat.

It was terrifying in a way that was calm. To just sit, with it’s head in it’s legs, at whatever spot of nothingness it’d happened to have been in. To just feel the nothingness, the distant shift of disarticulated bones, the absolute certainty that almost everything around him was once a something, a somebody. And now it simply wasn’t.

It was never scary to disassociate, not when Coomer was alone anyway. It liked the feeling, in a sort of perverse way. In a, ‘this is exactly the way everything makes sense’ sort of way. The same sort of way that makes people nostalgic for abuse. He knew this, but it was hard to care. Not…in the moment.

So maybe Coomer stopped existing, a little. And maybe sometimes Bubby had to sit with him, had to hold his arm and lean into his space, and just wait. And maybe it was scary, like stepping onto hot sand after being in the cool water, to suddenly have all of reality rush back in.

Maybe Coomer hated it, after. Hated himself for liking it, after. 

But that’s hardly any of your business, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway if any funky gays also heard coomer say 'there's nothing out there' and thought 'cheers bro i'll drink to that', hello!


	5. Vent

Gman was weird.

He was just. Around.

It wasn’t precisely that Benrey hated it. He was like…also just around. He got it. Sometimes it’s just, stealth mode time. Gotta grind the xp by sneaking everywhere.

But it was straight up like, not cool, when situations like this happened.

“Perhaps you should… move first…” Gman said. His face was comically smushed against the inside of the vent, but also in a vaguely disturbingly inhuman way. Like an octopus.

Benrey lipsmacked, irritated, and clipped through more of the vent to scratch his ass.

“What if I…didn’t. And you um- moved. Because I actually live here.”

“Human concepts of…land ownership are…..trite. We are…beyond those times. Nobody can own…matter itself.”

“Yeah? You gonna um…say that in court, bud? BBBB-“ Benrey cut himself off embarrassed, “Buddy? You gonna say that in- law rooms?”

Gman squinted.

…

Benrey squinted back.

Benrey won by virtue of having more eyes.

Gman sighed exaggeratively, as if humoring a child, and slorped out of the way.

Benrey carried on. Hell yes. Subway surfers hidden level. Gotta fucking-

“IS THAT A FUCKING ARM-“

Aw shit. Gordon activated. Initiate invasive maneuvers. Google search ‘do a barrel roll’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the heck of it sit with me and imagine if this took place in an among us two imposter au.....


	6. Chapter 6




	7. Flat planes are in!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter simply sparked joy within me. That is all.

Benrey stretched his legs into Forzen’s lap, making a halfhearted attempt to kick the controller out of his hands. Forzen didn’t look away from the screen, tickled under Benrey’s calf just so, and Benrey made a nonsensical upset sound as fell off the couch.

He blinked slowly. Okay, actually this was kind of comfy.

And, well.

He looked at Forzen’s feet. They were in socks! It was downright chaste. But. Hm. Well.

Benrey could chill here for a while.

He and Forzen were good pals. Best of friends! And not like, uh, the fucked thing he had with Freeman, for a while. Maybe less now. He had no clue if he and Gordon were like. Cool. He _knew_ he and Forzen were cool. He had asked! It had sucked to do but he had asked!

And because they were good pals, yeah, the foot thing had come up. This was a 100 percent non creepy move! Also, the floor really was like, resplendent. Floors are great. Neurotypicals need to lay off on that, uh, uh, uh, ‘furniture’ shit. Flat planes are in!

But yeah, him and Forzen, best of pals. He was like, so glad Forzen hadn’t died. He had even gotten a call from Josh! From GameStop! Josh was going to use his death to quit, but it was like. Apparently a violation of…..dunno, contract? Benrey rolled over and flapped a bit in thought. Yeah, that seemed right. Or at the very least plausible. Benrey admitably had no clue how reincarnation-based folks worked the legal system. He was like, more familiar with the constant issue of people wanting to touch Josh’s hair, which was wack. You can’t just uh… Do that.

Josh was back at GameStop, which was great, because he really was good for some discounts. Besides, they had like, such a good time together. They wore like, ‘gamer’s don’t die they just respawn’ shirts. And like, at some point Josh had given him a feather, which like, whoa. Benrey honestly had no clue what that was about, but a phoenix feather had to have, like. Some coolness attached to it. People just didn’t give out pieces of their body (….ex pieces of their body?) for nothing.

Benrey loved his friends, for real.

Case in point, Forzen had accepted Benrey lying on the floor internally monologuing in complete stride, and was both stealing all of the best gear AND protecting Benrey’s idle character. Aww. That’s fwiendship babey!

“Fwiendshipppp,,,,!” Benrey vocal stimmed quietly.

Forzen looked up from the game and smiled soft. Benrey didn’t feel like emoting so he made ilu signs back, which in case you didn’t know looks like uhhhhh. Spiderman shooting web. In the old movie, when it comes out of his hands, not that stuff where he makes it or something. MCU who? Innovation what? Benrey thought spiderman was coolest when he was just. Scuttery little guy.

Forzen succeeded at his background task of saving the game using both controllers. He looked down at Benrey.

Benrey blinked back at him.

Forzen smiled crookedly. 

“You wanna go look through steam recommended games and talk shit?”

Benrey raised a fist, and they had an awesome fist bump.

“Yeah.”


	8. BUBBY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Bubby was dead. Yeah? And the fuck was your problem with it?

So Bubby was dead. Yeah? And the fuck was your problem with it?

Listen, Black Mesa was a shitshow. Fucking around with like, human transmutation or whatever. It was pure luck that Bubby was a person! A living person was just too much to ask!

When Harold Raised him, a capital R raised, it took effort to not bite the man’s face off! Through PURE force of habit! Not some, stereotypical zombie urge, you bigot, but because that was LITERALLY the urge living Bubby had most often. It was anger, fear, and wanting to bite somebody’s goddamn face off.

Honestly, he was grown _in a tube_. How did anyone think that was going to make functioning people? Do you have any idea how much babies need touch? Have you ever read any ‘wild child’ psychology studies?

Bubby has! Xey had them injected in xyr brain! In their Skull! Harold had purposefully left pieces of his body behind because black mesa had fucked it up so bad!

It had taken a horrifying forever to make sure xyr head wouldn’t fucking explode for basically random reasons. They made the recipe for coffee a trigger? Bubby had _just_ wanted to figure out how to get some fucking caffeine, and then woop! There was was! Splattered! Harold had to come in and put him back together!

Then he made the coffee for xem because he’s an absolute blessing. A blessing who Bubby does not want to be more of a burden on.

Because, okay, embarrassing, but Bubby was absolutely gone on this funky little necromancer.

Bubby…wasn’t going to say he had never been unhealthily trusting of people who were nice to him back in black mesa. His standards were very low, and it turns out ‘doesn’t smile while being a jackass’ isn’t actually a high standard. Go figure! But he was at least sure Harold was cool. At the very least, Harold had taken a noticeable amount of joy in fucking UP some black mesa scientists. Bubby got that! Revenge made sense more than fucking, any of this gushy gooey nonsense did.

Bubby loved Harold. He knew this because if Harold asked him to kill someone, he would. He knew he loved Harold because he had specifically, obviously, intentionally gone against what Harold wanted. And nothing bad had happened. He knew this because if there had to be someone in the world with a kill switch, someone who could decide at any moment to just let him die permanently…. He was glad it was him.

Bubby didn’t ‘get’ love, not like the stories. He couldn’t imagine a date, not without it being stressful and terrible. But wasn’t fucking up the government kind of a date anyway? Who the fuck said he needed to be defined by that ‘normal’ shit anyway! He was fucking Doctor Bubby! He didn’t need to fucking, hand pick flowers and make ‘direct eye contact’ or whatever! Xey knew, 100 percent, that Harold was happy with him, that he loved him. 

They both trusted each other, so much. It wasn’t like some fuckin, power imbalance. Being a zombie didn’t mean you were a pushover, not even to your necromancer. Bubby had once torn Harold’s arm off. Which, okay, sucked! That was a mistake! But you know what? There’s a certain satisfaction in losing your goddamn mind, and besides, Harold was super augmented anyway. 

((Also, xey’d apologized. Obviously. Harold had… Well, it was very funny to him, which was UNFAIR because it was stressful to LITERALLY EVERYONE ELSE. The injury did end up being covered by insurance, and since this was when Bubby was United States property? Harold got enough hush money to upgrade his arm to hell and back. Bubby had heard him on the phone with both insurance and HR and….whew. When xey say that he makes xem feel things, xey mean it!))

Anyway, the point being is that Bubby was dead. And he was happy as hell about it. He had spit out his molar the other night just for the satisfaction of chewing it. Beat THAT, breathers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter....I've had this written since the beginning and I Love Zombie Bubby


	9. tense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the thing about being a kid in a broken home. A part of you never leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for implied/referenced child abuse? 
> 
> The world is very hard right now so please feel free to skip this at will, the tldr is gordon is stressed

Here’s the thing about being a kid in a broken home. A part of you never leaves.

  
A part of Gordon was forever smushed up between the bed and the wall, reading with a dollar store flashlight, half listening to the arguing from the living room. A part of Gordon slept with both eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to confront what happened at night. A part of Gordon was forever two steps ahead, five steps behind whatever was going on. A part of Gordon walked into his own house and kept track of every person, every step, every random noise. He couldn’t just assume or tune it out, he couldn’t just let it hit the backdrop. It was like the walls were his lungs and anything that pushed against them too hard took his breath right out of him, left him hurting on the floor.

And this was normal. Or well, as normal as it could be. Gordon was what, 36? You can’t live that many years and not adjust to it. It didn’t fade, but it wasn’t a bother either.

Until Benrey. 

Every time he slipped through a room silently, Gordon felt it in his chest. Viscerally. Like his chest was full of saltwater and fish and whenever Benrey would move all the fish would clammer to the edges of Gordon’s chest and try to burst out to stop Benrey from being so goddamn quiet.

Most of the time, Gordon was fine. He usually channeled it awkwardly into a sort of defensive anger, upset that he was so fucked up, so permanently bent as to make every casual stroll into a battle. He’d even go so far as to say that it’s part of why he was so relatively stable during Black Mesa’s fun gift of new PTSD. He had sort of spent every day going into work expecting everything to become life or death. And once it was? Well, it’s nice to be right.

But…Gordon was tired of it. He was so tired of it. Having everyone move in with him was a drain enough to his peaceful, easy to monitor house. He didn’t need Benrey going around, clipping through the fucking walls, being unpredictable and invisible in turns. It was…scary. Gordon couldn’t plan what to do next, couldn’t tell if Benrey was happy or angry, and had no clue what made Benrey lash out to begin with, and because of that had No Way to stop it from happening again. It sat in his chest constantly, it ripped down his arms like he was an overstuffed teddy bear, made him feel like his seams were tearing and soon he’d burst all over the floor and become unrecognizable.

Gordon was just. So. Tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i have readers who are still kids in broken homes. I know i do. I just want ya'll to know that it changes. I'm not gonna say it gets better (because thats so subjective), but at some point you'll be able to get the hell out of there, and that's honestly enough. You will find people who support you out of dumb luck if nothing else, and i promise you that you'll be happy and safe one day. You might have to put more work into it than is fair, but i fucking promise, you'll be happy and safe one day. You have a long time to get there, as long as you stay alive.  
> Love ya'll, stay safe


	10. That chapter with a lot of gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a dragon on the roof. There was a dragon on the roof. Why was there a dragon. On the roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Whew! Okay!  
> Summary in the end notes, this chapter is also kinda rough but i swear i'm going back to fluffy slice of life after this. TW's for this chapter are: Guns, guns aimed at people, the most PG vomit ever, ptsd shit, anxiously thinking about the worst case scenario.  
> Again, summary in the end notes, I know this fic is a tonal mess and I want ya'll to be able to skip this if you need to.

There was a dragon on the roof. There was a dragon on the roof. Why was there a dragon. On the roof.

Gordon has a gun aimed at the dragon almost before he registers there’s a dragon at all. It’s still glittering with probability magic when his finger rests on the trigger. He feels like he jumped into cold water. Of COURSE he isn’t safe here, in this fucked up little woodland bubble land. Of course something is out to get him. Every paranoid thought makes perfect sense.

His hand is shaking.

“Who the fuck are you, who the fuck- why are you on my HOUSE- stay back-“

The dragon is moving back (getting ready to charge? Lunge?) and moves closer to the end of the roof. It’s narrow, or rather, it’s narrow when there’s a goddamn dragon on it. Juvenile? What the fuck- No, okay, obviously there’s no way this cheap emotions gambit would work. There’s no way a younger dragon would make Gordon not shoot it. He didn’t give a fuck. He wanted to live.

The dragon shrunk, shifted, became small from Gordon’s view up the guns barrel.

“Uh, uh, uh, stop? Uh? Gordon? Fuck?” Tommy said, his hands still half shifted to claws, horns arched above his head.

Gordon fumbled the gun, almost dropping it before managing to clap it between his hands.

“You’re a dragon?!” 

Tommy looked awkwardly away, shuffling his wings back into his back and sliding his shirt on.

“I uh- thought- I made it obvious? Mr. Freeman? I never- hid it? Could- um- could you please put the gun away.”

Gordon startled and shoved the gun back into his holster. He lifted his hands up apologetically. 

“Jesus, jesus, sorry Tommy.”

The awkwardness in the air was palpable, and Tommy’s wings were shaking almost as bad as Gordon’s hands. Tommy wanted to flap so very badly, but he was afraid Gordon would freak out, so he just dug his claws into his palms and tried to breath calmly.

Gordon sat down.

Tommy carefully edged closer and sat as well.

It was…y’know. Tense.

“Sorry.”

“I uh- I’m not sure I want to forgive you for- a- aimi- pulling a gun on me! Less than five minutes ago!”

Gordon ran a hand through his hair, and Tommy tracked it. Tommy’s horns were almost completely gone, shrunk back down to short sized. He wasn’t wearing his hat.

They breathed for a moment. The air was kind of chilly, that autumn chill between wearing long pants and wearing a coat. Most of the birds were quite, but Gordon could faintly hear a woodpecker somewhere. Laughter came from inside. Booming, probably Coomer’s.

Two more…things he could feel? God, he wished he had paid more attention in the court mandated therapy. He wished he had paid more attention in everywhere, actually. How do you miss a whole species trait about your friend. 

Two more things… The roof felt uneven under him, it was some sort of landing and was just sloped enough for a book to slide off. It didn’t really feel safe, but who knew what they were thinking when they made it. Maybe it was designed with a fae family in mind, but he was pretty sure the railing was an iron alloy.

Maybe that’s why it didn’t sell.

Gordon looked over. Tommy had put his head in his arms, knees up and sitting like…well, a sad puppy. He had his boxers on, and his pants were….nowhere in sight. God, Gordon really hoped he hadn’t like, stressfully disappeared them.

God…to think that Gordon could have really shot him. All…well, not quite vulnerable, but the halfway point between dragon and ‘human’ was…. Squishy. The idea that Tommy, changing back to help calm down Gordon, could have been shot…could have been dead. That Gordon could have had to find out it was Tommy from the discarded clothes, or the vague shape of a half shifted face.

Oh, fuck.

Gordon bent to the side and threw up over the railing. He heard Tommy startle behind him.

“Oh that’s- gross- Are you- hm.” Tommy walked to the other side of the roof.

“Are you okay m- fr- Gordon?”

“N- No obviously not T-“ Gordon threw up again. 

There was a pause.

Then Gordon felt Tommy pull the gun out of his holster.

Gordon froze, a rush of nausea going through him, and stayed very still.

“Tommy?”

“Huh?”

“Are you aiming a gun at me right now?”

“….Only a little.”

“Oh, cool.” Gordon said, and then passed out.

-

“It was fair? It was- even stevens Mister Freeman!”

Gordon was freshly showered, had slept, and had freaked out already.

“Tommy I really feel like maybe gun violence isn’t the right thing to go even stevens on.” Gordon said into his hands.

“Well-!” Tommy threw his hands up. “I guess!”

-

“Wait, if you’re a dragon shouldn’t you-um. Have a hoard?”

“I- I do have a hoard Mr Freeman! I got- URLs that redirect to usa.beyblade.com! They’re- scattered all over the internet! Inescapable!”

“Inescapable- I- okay. Okay. You hoard URLs?”

“Yeah Mister Freeman! I also- made the rick roll! I do a lot of things!”

Gordon let out a startled giggle.

“I- okay Tommy, that’s really cool.”

“Thanks!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler Summary: Gordon finds a dragon on the roof, threatens it with a gun because oh god oh fuck a danger, and then the dragon is tommy. Gordon holsters the gun, they argue a little and then sit down processing, then gordon stress vomits off the side of the roof. Tommy takes the gun, points it at gordon for 'even stevens', and then gordon passes out.  
> Last two divided bits should be fine to read.
> 
> If anyone thinks I didn't tag or summarize or warn right, please let me know. If anyone has ideas for the upcoming chapters, let me know that too, because I need to pad the space between my plot points a bit. And again, this is just for fun, so please no super serious critique


	11. Kitchen Bitchin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Coomer is a kinnie.” Bubby declared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now return to our regularly scheduled programming

Tommy placed another soda can between Benrey’s teeth, watching as the eldritch gay chomped at it like popping boba. They were sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, surrounded by at least twenty half open soda boxes. Coomer was stacking them around Bubby, who was pretending to be dead on the off chance that Gordon came in.

“The uhh….the root beer ones taste like batteries smell.” Benrey warned. Tommy nodded wisely.

“Now Bipple, I personally think they taste like the floor of a Fight Club™!” Coomer gestured with his partially consumed can.

“Do you even like fight club? It’s uhh……” Tommy trailed off, feeling comfortable enough to do so.

Coomer placed a big blue can between Bubby’s legs, like a ‘weener’.

“Shitty!” Tommy declared, hitting his fist against his palm. “It’s got- uh, weird gay bits, but also, everything the main character sees is fake? That seems um- not the funnest, to you.”

Coomer hummed and didn’t say anything. He poked Bubby’s back.

Bubby blearily looked up and hit his head on a bridge of sprite cans. This did not faze him at all.

“Coomer is a kinnie.” Bubby declared.

“Professor!” Coomer scolded, knocking the cans over onto Bubby.

Bubby laughed like an asshole from beneath his prison of cans.

“I’m not a kinnie, I simply find the strife….relatable. And I find it funny! He punches himself in an alley, and then becomes a cult leader? It truly shows the personality of Straight Men™!” Coomer worked on excavating Bubby.

Benrey bubbled agreeing, and hit some soda cans stimmy. Tommy put his hand on Benrey’s knee, and made a ‘sound sucked for me’ face. Benrey patted Tommy’s horns apologetically, then bit into a cola can.

“Don’t pretend sweaty boobed guy didn’t awaken something within you.” Bubby said, rolling his eyes.

“His name was Robert Paulson.” Everyone else said in eerie sync, at the exact moment Gordon walked inside.

“…Okay.” Gordon stepped over a few random soda buildings and carefully opened the fridge, just barely avoiding Tommy’s leg. Benrey took this moment to crawl into Bubby’s soda cave and hug him. Tommy didn’t move and looked Gordon dead in the eye-adjacent area. With the cutest most innocent face he could manage.

Gordon sighed and awkwardly shoved his arm in the very small space of the open fridge. He pulled out a water bottle and sat on the floor too.

“Okay guys, what are we talking about?” Gordon asked, cracking the water bottle open.

“Soda!” Coomer said, and then repeated again quieter.

“Mister- Freeman do you think the….similar shape of soda cans are based on the uh-uh- efficiency of the shape as a drinking and storage thingy? Or that it’s uh- just the- the uh- business standard under capitalism?” 

Gordon looked at the ceiling and thought for a moment. Tommy looked at the line of his neck, at the incredibly vulnerability of humans, who just go around being all squishy for fun.

“Capitalism, probably?” 

“I think it’s because of the mouth shape.” Benrey said, making a big O with their mouth to demonstrate. The teeth disproved the point, a bit.

“It’s horrible to hold, so it’s probably capitalism.” Bubby said.

Gordon made a face. “What- no? It’s the shape your hand makes when you make a fist.”

Bubby made a worse face back, before picking up a soda can. The smoothness combined with how difficult it was for his hand muscles to grip meant it slipped out of hand, denting and making a concerning hissing sound on the floor.

“Ah, sorry.” Gordon said, embarrassed.

Bubby shrugged and turned back over, moving Benrey with him like a teddy bear.

“The shape favors humanoids uh- even if you ignore the smoothness.” Tommy said. “When I’m uh- a dragon, my hand closes as more of a, oval? It uh- it would crush a cylinder.”

Gordon nodded and made a fist with his hand, rubbing it clockwise across his chest. Tommy nodded and patted his head. Coomer came over and also patted his head, mostly because head patting was superb.

Tommy looked around and saw that Benrey was half asleep, making small sweet voice bubbles that bounced against the cabinet and dissipated in the air. The sound wasn’t really noticeable, more like the hum of machinery or the background noise of a fire.

It is nice to sit down with friends.


	12. A/N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N

Yeah, I know there's nothing sadder than when you get the a/n chapter notification, sorry about that.

To be really upfront- As much as a care about this fic and will continue writing bits of it for my own private enjoyment, ao3 engagement on anon fics is always kinda shit. I would honestly rather keep this fic to myself than watch how the comments decline with every chapter. That said- for everyone who's read, thank you. Every person who's mentioned being happy about stimming in this fic, every person who's happy stimmed about this fic, honestly i cannot describe how much those comments have meant to me. 

Another factor is i've been an unfortunate uhhh...victim to a lot of gore on another platform. I'm having to report accounts, which means looking at what im reporting, which...yeah. It's sort of soured my tastes on the fun, cartoony zombie bubby I have in this fic. Which sucks- zombie bubby is my favorite! But for now, he's fitting in my head all wrong.

That said- open permission for anyone to write fics in this verse, steal ideas, whatever. I'll ask that you tag it with urban fantasy, just so i might be able to find it some day, but really i don't care. I wrote this fic because this idea is really fun to me. I might one day repost it off anon, preferably fixed up and done, but probably not soon.

That said, thank you so much for everyone who took the risk of an anon fic, thank you for everyone who left happy comments, and here's the incomplete thing that would have been the next chapter. Enjoy.

* * *

“So what’s it like being a uh….unfresh flesh boy?” Benrey asked, poking at Bubby’s face.

They were sitting together in the grass outside, Bubby leaning against the side of the house, and Benrey was sitting cross legged, way too close to a rose bush. Coomer was asleep inside the rose bush, legs flailed out over Bubby’s, effectively trapping xem.

Bubby rolled xir eyes.

“What’s it like being eldritch, asshole?”

Benrey lip smacked, eyes following the treeline.

“Spilled water.”

“What?”

“You know how like….you put the water in the glass and it’s all like. In one place? I’m me everywhere like if you um…..spilled it.”

Bubby thought for a sec.

“Yeah seems legit.”

Coomer grunted and rolled over, trampling another section of bush and almost kneeing Bubby in the crotch. Benrey leaned over and checked that Coomer wasn’t being stabbed with thorns. Coomer was thorn free, so she patted it’s back and went back to staring at random things.

[YOU COULD PUT MORE SCENE BUILDING HERE, OR REFLECTIONS]

After a while, Bubby spoke up again.

“You know how you like, take lunchmeat out and it’s all cold from the fridge? I’m the fridge.”

Benrey blinked.

“Oh! Meaty.”

“…Yeah sure I guess that fuckin works. Or like, you mentioned being all not contained? Then I think it’s like….glass full of meat.” Bubby made a face at this.

“Fuck yeah….. meat glass, glass with the meat in it.” Benrey looked fucking delighted at this concept. She made some vague gestures that looked like…scooping meat into a glass like icecream? With a gleam in his eyes that definitely meant she was thinking about doing it ‘IRL’ later.

Bubby decided that wasn’t his fucking problem and dug xir nails into the dirt. Just for the pleasure of it.

* * *

And a bonus gordon benrey gay moment that would have come really far in the future:

* * *

The thing was, Gordon was kind of a big guy.

He was chubby, plain and simple, and Benrey absolutely loved it.

Not in a weird way, thought it was honestly kinda fucked that they had to clarify that. But…Wow. Gordon was just. So hot. Gordon uh, uh, uh, hotman. Gordon bigman hotman.

Benrey blushed and twirled his hair. He was sitting criss cross on top of the fridge, and he could see Gordon talking to Coomer in the living room. This was legally not creepy due to frequency, at this point. Like, they dunno, nobody had ever asked them to stop. Benrey like…they figured it was chill. 

Plus, sometimes people found them quicker this way. Everyone had kinda stopped like…. Looking in his room for him.

Speaking of, Gordon kissed Coomer’s cheek as the other wandered off to do their own thing, and then Gordon’s eyes fell on Benrey.

Benrey very quickly stopped twirling his hair. Said hair disappeared back inside his helmet like it was being sucked by a vacuum.

Benrey also very firmly told the toaster to stop levitating. The toaster did not listen.

“Hey, Benz, want to snuggle?” Gordon asked, looking up at them.

“I uh, uhhh…” Benrey made a stimmy twirl. “Yeah.”

Gordon smiled and opened his arms, and Benrey came down and went into them at light speed.

Then they were hugging. 

Oh geez, oh god oh fuck, he was being hugged. He was performing and receiving a hug. Oh wow. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Benrey hid his blush on Gordons shoulder. 

Gordon tapped his back.

“Hey hey. Look at me?”

Benrey did, and bubbled a little at Gordons pleased smile. Really the man had no right looking this cute. This was uh. Mlg. This was pogchamp. Play of the game shit. Oh jeez, the little wrinkles by his eyes. Wow. Wow.

Then Gordon held his cheeks oh so gently and pet them back. Benrey felt…wow. He sure did feel.

Like, a cat. Or just something special. Treasured. It was…a lot.

It was a bit too much.

Benrey pecked Gordon’s lips, speedy fast, to indicate he was fine. Then he vanished into the infinite nothingness that surrounds all matter.

It’s hard to watch without eyes, but Benrey enjoyed the shocked flustered look on Gordon’s face as he made his escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading

**Author's Note:**

> Are they dating? They’re pals. They’re kissing? Straight up buddies. They declared undying love? Whats a little romo between non specified semi queer platonic friends who are maybe a bit dating.


End file.
